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May 2012

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A Rainy Sunday Evening

I am new to LJ, so this is my first story im posting on here, its one that i posted on my AFF account- a short and sweet almost drabble

Title; A Rainy Sunday Evening
Pairing; 2min
Minho works at a dull yet homey cafe, but a young man comes along and brightens up the place.

It's a rainy Sunday the first time he comes in, ordering a small hot chocolate and a doughnut and carrying the local newspaper. 

"The doughnuts aren't very fresh,"  Minho warns, already preparing the hot chocolate.  It's late evening and someone forgot to throw away the donuts they didn't sell that morning, so they are still sitting on display with pretty pink and blue sprinkles.  "But a chocolate cake is just about to come out of the oven, if you would like that instead," he suggests.  Minho sits the hot chocolate down on the counter.

"I'll take a slice of cake then," the boy says, picking up his hot chocolate and relishing the way it warms up his hands.

"That'll be $5.23," Minho says, pressing buttons all over the cash register.  The boy fumbles with his wallet a little bit before laying down a five dollar bill, two dimes, and three pennies; exact change. 

Minho sticks the money into the register.  "I'll bring you that cake when it's ready."  The boy nods and grins, his bright smile brightening up the dull cafe.  He looks around for a moment, as if deciding where to sit though there are only three tables.  He chooses the one near the window.  He spreads the paper out across the small surface, but instead of reading it, just gazes outside.

Minho only stands there, leaning his weight on the counter, entertaining himself by watching the boy gaze.  There really isn't much else to do considering that only the boy, the baker, and himself are the only ones in the establishment, and the baker doesn't really enjoy his company. 

Minho perks up instantly when the oven goes off.  He tears his eyes away form the boy and goes into the kitchen where he finds the baker already cutting the cake up into perfect slices and icing each with a pretty pink heart.  Minho quickly rescues a piece from the oncoming sprinkles and sets it on a plate neatly, grabbing a clean fork and setting it on the side. 

The boy seems to have heard the oven as well, for when Minho comes out with the slice of cake in hand, he is looking in that direction expectantly.  He smiles once again when the dessert comes in to view and licks his lips when it is set down in front of him. 

Minho finds himself wanting to talk to the boy.  So he does.  "Sorry about the heart," Minho says.  "I managed to save it from the sprinkles though."  The boy looks up and locks eyes with him.  Maybe it's just the cold day, but Minho swears those are the warmest eyes he's ever seen.

"Nah," he says, picking up the fork.  "I think it's cute." 

Minho just nods, a bit upset that he doesn't know how to continue with the conversation.

"Well, if you need anything, just, you know, ask." 

"Of course," the boy says, then takes his first bite of cake, letting out a small 'mmm' as he savors the chocolatey goodness.  Minho leaves, only to go back behind the counter and wait until the boy is finished to clean up the mess.

He doesn't have to wait long until the boy gets up, thanks Minho, and heads out the door. 

"Come back soon!"  Minho yells as he picks up the empty plate. 

"Of course," the boy replies, face breaking into another smile which makes Minho wish that 'soon' is tomorrow morning.


One month later and the boy stays true to his word, coming in every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday religiously.  Needless to say, Minho has become rather attached to him because, even though conversation is rarely present, he offers great company during the evenings when business is dreadfully slow. 
But this Sunday he is a little bit late, entering the place only moments before the sprinkling outside turned into heavy rain.  Minho is pleased that he made it.

"What kind of sweet would you like today?"  Minho asks, already preparing the usual hot chocolate. 

"How fresh is that cake?" he asks, pointing to the chocolate cake that's on display.  Like always, it's decorated with pink. 

"About an hour," Minho says after a little thought, handing the hot chocolate directly to the boy.  He notices that their fingers brush against each other and that the boy's hands are cold.  He dwells on it longer than he should, thinking about how he could solve the problem with his own, warm, hands. 

"I'll take a slice," the boy says, placing exact change for his food on the counter.  He then makes his way over to the table he always sits at, pulling out a book from his bag and placing it on the table, but not opening it.

Minho is trying hard to pick out the best slice of cake.  He eventually chooses one, a bit bigger than the others with a perfect heart on top.  Satisfied with his decision, he brings the item over to the only occupied table and sets it down gently.  He receives a 'thank you' and a smile before the boy goes to town on the sugary treat.  Like always, he makes his way back to the counter until he is left alone again with the baker, a table to wipe down, and another dish to clean.

Minho gets off of work fourty-three minutes later with soft hands from the dish soap and carrying a box of leftovers for dinner.  He turns around after he exits, locking up the establishment even though there isn't much to steal.  He opens his umbrella, carful to stay under the ledge until his umbrella is fully open and ready to shield him from the still heavily falling rain.  He takes one step into the rain when, from the corner of his eye, he catches a small movement. 

Minho jumps a little, surprised and ready to fight if necessary, and faces the direction where he suspected the movement to come from.  Right in front of him, on the ground, sits a small person, shivering, with their head down.

"Excuse me?"  Minho says, trying to get the person's attention, now worried instead of scared.  The person looks up and Minho recognizes him immediately.  His favorite customer offers up a small smile, looking rather pitiful with pale skin and blue-tinted lips. 

"Are you okay?" Minho asks, bending down so he is at eye level with the boy on the ground. 

"Yeah," the boy says, brushing hair out of his eyes.  "I'm fine," he assures.  Minho isn't so sure that the boy is being honest, so he interrogates further. 

"What are you doing here?" 

"Well," the boy looks away from Minho and out into the rain.  "I forgot my umbrella."

Minho nods, no one wants to walk home in the cold, especially when it's raining.  It's then that he realizes that the boy has probably been sitting outside for a good amount of time now, which is probably why he's shivering and looks rather cold.  It makes Minho unhappy. 

"So, are you planning to just wait until the rain stops?"  If that's the case, Minho wonders why he didn't just wait inside of the warm cafe and keep him company. 

The boy just shrugs.  "There's not much else to do."

Minho suddenly sees the opportunity he's been granted.  It's not too late yet, and there is no urgent business he needs to attend to; this is his chance, and he's going to make the best of it.

"You're welcome to use mine," Minho offers.

The boy's attention snaps back to him, eyes wide.  "But won't you get wet?"

"Not if we walk together."  Minho tries to put on his best, warmest smile, and hopes that he doesn't sound like a creep.  The boy hesitates for a moment, slowly comprehending what Minho is saying.  A rosy blush rises to his cheeks and Minho hopes that it's because of him. 

"Okay," the boy replies, standing up and brushing himself off.

Minho immediately breaks into possibly the large smile ever.  He's sure that he looks goofy, but is just too happy to care. 

"So which way are we going?" Minho asks as the boy squeezes under the umbrella with him.  When he notices the boy still shivering, he fights the urge to wrap an arm around him, not wanting to blow this if he can help it. 

"That way."  The boy points in the direction of Minho's house.  Minho smiles again at the idea that they might live close to each other.

"Well then let's go!" Minho exclaims, a fist up in the air.  As soon as he does it, he flushes with embarrassment, realizing how elementary that was.  However, the boy just giggles and raises his own fist up too.

"Oh," the boy suddenly says.  "I'm Taemin by the way."  He holds out a small hand.

"Nice to meet you, Taemin," Minho says, gripping Taemin's hand and giving it a good shake.  "I'm Minho."

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